


Nothing That Special

by Dumnonii_Canton, YaminoTenshi202



Series: The Crime Lord AU! [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Abuse, Blood and Torture, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Child Abuse, Crime Lord AU!, Drug Dealing, Eating of Domesticated Animals, Gangsters, Human Trafficking, Illegal Activities, M/M, Multi, Necrophilia, Organized Crime, Pedophilia, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coersion, Sexual Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-16 09:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dumnonii_Canton/pseuds/Dumnonii_Canton, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: Crime Lord! AU - Listen to the tags. They are meant to help you determine if you would want to read this fic and if you can handle it. My sister actually threw up a bit after reading a bit of it, and she writes dark stuff too.Summary:Tord was taken. With his head down in the pig bin, he raised his head and he let out a laugh that was really a cry.





	1. Pig Farm

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not for the faint of heart. Again, my sister threw up a bit.
> 
> This story can be called a sin fic, in that many sins are committed in this fic. As my sister said, the creator of sadism would look upon this as a good political satire.
> 
> I guess if you make it with the warnings, the tags, and past the second paragraph, you're okay? (That's what my sister says.)

There was a puddle where his dog was lying, but Tord only sighed and moved on. It was the third dog in the second week that he had been stationed here in the Warehouse. Tord sighed again as he tried to spot his breath in the dim lighting, his hands up to spot them in the shadows. He settled against the cement wall behind him, spotting a bit of light coming through the floorboards above him. It reminded him of the sun.

He couldn't remember the last time that he had seen the sun. He couldn't recall the last that he could smell fresh air, and not the buckets for waste that they had been provided with. His own waste went into a hole that he had haphazardly dug into the dirt floor of the corner that he had claimed as his. He'd not deal with his own waste stinking up his only living place. He had seen some of the others begin to devour it from their containers. At least he resisted doing that.

There were words that they said that he didn't understand, some words in other languages than his own Norwegian. The guards talked around him in French and other languages, only knowing of the French from hearing his mother talk about going to visit family friends before he was born.

"Pigs..." Tord mumbled to himself. He could see the other people that were here trapped with him begin to shuffle around in the shadows, their voices mixing into a rumble of noise.

Tord heard noise above him, laughs coming. One of the guards that spoke French mentioned the pigs under his very feet, including Tord in the numbers. Something else came as well; droplets of water came from above.

His body was moving before his mind could think of what the moisture could be; piss, water, alcohol, snow... He didn't care at all; his mouth opened and his sandpaper tongue was given mercy. One of the Piglets came to push at him, but Tord had been smart in the time that they had been here, eating everything that was given to him. It wasn't any worse than the stuff that his family had to eat from the restaurants that were throwing away their leftovers into trash cans, or the stray animals that could be cooked with the small paraffin stove that his father has always carried around. Compared to everyone else, Tord was a Goliath in strength.

He was grateful that it was water, wondering if the Pigs upstairs realized that they needed actual water to live. Tord was panting as he moved someone's head from a steady trickle that came through the old floor planks. Someone pulled at his back, and Tord's mind became blanketed in red, his fists and elbows making purchase against the frail Piglets.

"Look, there," he heard in English this time, something he could speak fluently, though he'd never make it known. "The Norwegian Debut is remembering his place."

"Yeah, he was one of these prisoners not too long ago, right?"

Tord shut his mouth at those words.

He wasn't a Piglet anymore; he was a Boar, running through everyone with his tusks bare and bloody.

"Interesting to see that if any Debuts get into trouble, they can rely on the treatment that we already gave them."

Tord walked away from the idea of water, instead deciding to grab the dog that he was given. It no longer was breathing, and Tord felt no regrets of skinning the beast and slipping its body into a metal container so that it could roast over his father's old paraffin stove, becoming a new meal for the newest Debut of his prison, a prisoner turned guard.

Breaking the dog's ribcage was satisfying, and Tord was happy that he had done so as he ate the soft meat inside.

* * *

Tord had finished his meal of dog meat, and he had begun to try and sleep; he didn’t hold out for it.

It was in the beginning that Tord had wondered about what it would be like when he could finally sleep peacefully. By the end, he had no hope for it. There was too much screaming in the cells that had been next to his.

They cried out for water, which always came through the floorboards above them and in buckets that all of them had fought over, and for warmth. Tord had been alone in his cell for much of his time in the Pen, after he had killed one of the other prisoners.

There had been no fanfare to it, only a body being thrown out to the guard dogs who had torn the entire corsage to pieces. Tord, however, was placed in a cell to keep other Cargo from meeting the same fate.

It hadn’t even been something that Tord wanted to do; it was commanded of him by another gendarme who just wanted a bit of entertainment. Pulled from a cell in which the other prisoners

“You think you can escape, Norski?” The gendarme, who had spoken in Norwegian, brought him to a cell that Tord had heard screaming in not too long before… Maybe a week ago, a woman had been screaming inside.

“Maybe I can get you some preference if you get rid of this bitch for me.”

Tord looked to the floor where the woman lay. She was naked and bruises covered her completely. She was pretty, and she would have been beautiful without all of the swollen areas on her. Everywhere the bruises weren’t, there was a pasty tone of her flesh, blood leaving those spots to try and heal the rest of her broken body.

It did not bother Tord; her nudity was something natural and ethereal that he didn’t think that he would witness in this hell hole. Her bruises were something human against the face of these Piglets that let themselves be used and caged in the Pigpens. He only felt pity for the woman that had chosen to kill herself, her eyes glassy and disconnected and dead, rather than fight and possibly die, or she would devolve into a weeping Sow like the other broken women here in the Pigpen.

“What can I get, sir?” Tord felt a hand come around his throat, a hissing tongue against his ear.

“We’ll talk about that later, little rabbit. Watch your words, or else I let you to the dogs. They haven’t had good game to chase in a while.” Tord’s throat was squeezed again, only slightly, but there was a sense of levity to it, a sense of play. Tord only shivered as the tongue licked at the shell of his ear, trying to stay calm as the gendarme let him go and let him look down at the woman again.

She only started fighting after ten seconds of Tord wrapped his hands around her throat. Her legs were hardly flailing, much less kicking to try and get Tord off of her. Her arms, on the other hand, were still strong, and her fingers, nails gone in attempts to try and scratch her way out of her cell, were grabbing at Tord as much as she could.

Tord only squeezed harder in response, arms straining to fight this woman and just finish her off. There was nothing left in her blank eyes, only an animal run by instinct. There was nothing left that she could offer to the world, especially the world that she was now drowning in. She’d be defiled like the pig that they were shaping her into, an animal to be used for whatever the gendarmes and soldiers decided.

“God damn it, just die.”

As he squeezed, his arms were burning, and he couldn’t remember when she stopped struggling and made only desperate gasps for air, soft wheezes in her throat, while Tord pleaded out loud for her to die. He curled over her, trying to press his weight into his arms. Her fingers were still on his arms, his hands, and Tord felt like he was feeling something amazing crawling over his skin. It felt like electricity.

“There you go,” the gendarme said, breath ghosting over Tord’s neck. Tord flinched, feeling his weakened nails pierce the woman’s flesh. A choking noise came from her before her hands slipped away.

Tord sat frozen, not releasing her. The gendarme was behind him, low to the ground but not low enough for him to be on the ground completely. The man held Tord’s shoulders, grasping him slightly before pushing him down onto the woman. Tord let out a cry, his mouth landing on the woman’s cheek. It was still warm.

They lay like that for a while.

Her fingertips were cold when the gendarme finally pulled Tord off the corpse and dragged him back to his lonely cell, closing and locking the door behind them both.

“Stay still, pig.” Tord was given no other warning before the shift that he had for clothing was lifted, the sorry excuse for underwear slipped off with a practiced ease, and the gendarme was thrusting against his body, guttural moans of arousal coming from the larger, stronger man’s body.

Tord tried to cry out, but a familiar hand pressed itself against his throat.

“Don’t let them hear you squeal, piglet. They might come running to have some fun with you, and I don’t want to share just yet.” The gendarme spread Tord’s legs, giving him praise at his silence, mostly due to the hand that was choking the young man; the larger man pulled down his trousers, letting his cock come free. The strangled gasp that accompanied him thrusting in only made him thrust in more roughly, Tord thought, his mind getting fuzzy at the feeling of the man inside of him.

He tried to blank out of it, a moment when he thought that the woman that he had just killed might have had the right idea in trying to escape the cruelty around them. He could feel himself bleeding, the liquid slowly starting to make everything easier to handle; he dared to thank his body for breaking.

A certain thrust made him shudder, pleasure racing up his spine and to everywhere else once it hit his shoulder blades. Tord made a noise that sounded like a groaning cough, and the gendarme laughed at its almost musical sound.

“You like that?”

Tord was letting out musical gasps with every thrust into his body, his mind trying to determine where on Earth they were and what was going on, dizzy from the lack of air to his lungs. His hands tried to grasp for anything to hold onto, attempting to reach for more of the wonderful feeling or its source. In a mockery of affection, the man responded by embracing Tord, breathing harshly against his neck.

Pleasure was furthering the disorientation, and when oxygen finally came back into Tord’s lungs, rushing to cure him of the blackness at the edge of his vision, his mind went blank as the feeling of euphoria overwhelmed him and forced a raspy moan from his throat.

Heat filled him, the gendarme rolling their hips together through the wonderful feeling that Tord was feeling.

“Wow… You’re still awake.”

Tord nodded slightly, still in a daze.

“Huh. She passed out one minute into me fucking her. Stopped making noise after twenty.” The gendarme pushed himself up, pressing his mouth to Tord’s in something not quite a kiss. Tord shuddered.

“Listen to what I say, and maybe you’ll get to be with me in a bedroom next time.”

Tord lay still, flinching as the man pulled out. He sighed at the feeling of emptiness, not knowing if he hated it or not. He missed his attacker’s flesh against his, for some reason that he didn’t understand; perhaps it was because he hadn’t felt another person’s touch for weeks, grabbing for him rather than pushing against him. His shift was actually pulled down and the gendarme stood up, smiling down at him.

“Gudmund! Where are you?” Tord heard, the English words something new in the air. “There’s a dead sow in cell 6. Why didn’t you just shoot her?”

“Hey, get this pig a new cell.” Gudmund reached down and grabbed the front of Tord’s shift, shuffling to get a good grip on him and throw Tord over his shoulder

“Really?” The soldier who was talking began to laugh. “He hugged your cock tighter than the woman that just died?”

“He’s a good little slut…” Gudmund and the soldier continued to speak. “He killed the bitch under my order.”

“Really? Just like that?”

Gudmund squeezed Tord’s thigh, almost kindly. With his body tired and used, the warm hand was a welcome change. Tord found himself drifting off to sleep. In his new cell, he was placed on the floor, the cement cold beneath him. Dreams stole him away.

“Leader _Tod_ might find some use for that.”

“Come on, he’s nothing that special.”


	2. Dogs Growing Up

He remembered when he and Gudmund had walked their first dog around the original base that they had been stationed at; it had been taken by another soldier and killed for fun, its raw body being fed to the Piglets that had just come to the Pigpen. Tord, a fresh Debut at the time, had stayed by Gudmund, trying to earn Gudmund’s good favor, and Gudmund liked the idea of having someone that would offer sexual contact often.

The second puppy was one that he and Gudmund had named together – Golde. The young female pup was one that curled up for Gudmund’s affection when he was present and when Tord would come back from his intense training as a Debut. They would sit in Gudmund’s bedroom, eat; of course, Gudmund ate at the table; Tord and Golde ate on the floor but out of dishes, because Tord had been behaving very well.

In Gudmund’s graces, Tord did receive notice and praise. Achim, a new Debut chosen by another gendarme, followed Tord often, talking with him and asking him for additional training. On a day where Tord and Gudmund were not present, Achim said that their little puppy had gone out; they could not find Golde later.

Their third puppy had been named Tanya.

 “Tord.”

Tord lifted his head. He rubbed his eyes and looked up to the man speaking to him. When his vision stopped being so blurry, he identified the guest and saw a hand offered to him.

“Were you trying to sleep, _kanin_?”

“Yeah, the piglets aren’t doing anything now that they’re asleep, and Erna is watching them.” Tord stood up, using the offered hand to pull himself to standing. “They got watered not too long ago.”

A kiss was pressed to his temple. “Come, _kanin_ , let’s go to our room.”

Tord followed Gudmund, knowing that after a quick round of sex, he’d be able to sleep on a bed again. The prospect that he could sleep comfortably spoke to the instinctual side of him, something that he found himself despising; it was nothing to give someone somewhere soft to sleep, he thought, but as long as the Black Army and its Leader _Tod_ existed, there would be no comfort for anyone, not even some levity.

Gudmund closed the door as Tord began to strip his uniform off. Tord noticed the gold stars on Gudmund’s jacket; there was a new one, and that meant that Gudmund had surely gone up in rank again. He’d been a gendarme when he had taken Tord into his good graces… He’d probably be an Arban, then.

Tord felt lips on his neck, and he smiled. Gudmund was getting more powerful by the day, every hour turning out a new rank of power and another strength for him to latch onto. Hands groped down his front, stroking his cock and making Tord begin to gasp in pleasure.

Somehow, Tord felt them move towards the bed, his face directed to land in a pillow. Gudmund’s chest against his back, Tord settled down into the sheets and mattress, shivered at the suckling sensations and kisses to his neck and shoulders.

“Relax,” Gudmund ordered, and Tord nodded, sighing and letting his muscles fall lax as slightly wettened fingers came to his backside. They pressed in insistently, aggravating old wounds and painful spots that Tord didn’t have time to heal from just yet.

His hands dug into the pillows as Gudmund pressed inward. The older man covered him completely, skin to skin with no gap in between them; Tord shuddered at the feeling that sparked, the warmth that he enjoyed feeling, even though the pain as Gudmund began to pull out and thrust back in began to flare up again. The hand on him began to stroke him roughly again, Tord calling out his superior’s name.

“Did you like… the new dog?” Gudmund huffed out. Tord groaned out a soft “yes” which Gudmund chuckled at, still rutting against him.

“Achim… said I was spoiling you…” Tord nodded.

“You’re… good to me,” he insisted. He pressed back against Gudmund’s cock, smiling as a special spot inside of him was stimulated.

“You aren’t… ungrateful, are you, Tord?”

Tord shook his head the best that he could, which was responded to by a sharp bite to his neck. Gudmund’s free hand came to the front of his throat, squeezing and pressing Tord’s face into the mattress. Tord coughed, trying to speak.

“Gu-!”

“It tasted- Unh, wonderful, didn’t it?” Tord’s vision was hazy, thrown between suffocation and pleasure. He felt the dog meat that had settled well into his stomach churning. The memory of the taste, a sweet and tough meat, tickled at his mind with a pleasure that was growing hazy and dream-like as he started to lose his vision. He felt his pleasure peaking, and he heard the memory of his little dog following him.

“It reminded me of you.”

Tord whimpered, his voice almost nonexistent with the force of Gudmund choking him. He tried to press back against the beautiful thrusting into his ass, trying so hard to come, lest he faint before or during his orgasm, leaving him without the feeling of ecstasy that he was longing for. He couldn’t even recall his name in the search for the paradise.

Air and pleasure came, Tord calling out his superior’s name, heat pooling inside of him as his own heat rushed out through his cock from the pit of Hellfire in his belly.

He blacked out right after Gudmund had congratulated him on something.

When Tord awoke, he was alone and the sheets around him held Gudmund’s scent, a heavy and gunpowder-filled smell. He pushed himself up slowly, feeling the sting of torn viscera from the inside of his body. He had bled, certainly, and he only hummed at the feeling inside of his chest; despite the pain that was delivered, Gudmund was caring towards him, and he brought Tord gifts often; the puppies had been part of a misstep on Tord’s part and he would never aim to be cause of Gudmund’s ill moods again.

For his whole life, Tord did not think that he would feel the same kind of caring and warmth in his chest that his parents had groomed within his beating heart, ever again.

A small piece of cardstock caught his eye, a small thing on Gudmund’s nightstand.

An invitation, this Thursday; it was today.

He saw the date.

It was his birthday today.

* * *

Tord was following his commander and superiors – including Gudmund – into a large gala, of sorts. He recognized symbols and uniforms from other sections of the military, other militias that he had encountered on his scouting and reconnaissance missions. In their own uniforms, the Black Army seemed to fit in well with the atmosphere, but there was a scent that hung over it all that Tord couldn’t help inhaling deeply, letting it settle and fester in his lungs at its familiarity.

“Come this way, debut.”

Tord followed willingly, eyes still taking everything that he could in. With the tone that his superior spoke in, he was trying to be cautious. He looked over to Gudmund, who showed no mistrust of the commander, the Zuun that had hard eyes and a vulpine smile.

Gudmund waved Tord off, and Tord nodded.

* * *

He had read Notre Dame of Paris once. His parents had actually read it to him, when he was small and he needed introduction to the world outside of faerie tales.

He had read that on the eighth day of Easter, Frollo had taken in a deformed child and named him after the eighth day of Easter; it was the day that Quasimodo had been born.

Today was a Thursday, and it was his birthday.

His day of christening, and his gift for his eighth day of service, the Zuun told him, was a young man, nubile in posture and bare of marks, that was naked on his hands and knees on the floor, a cloth sack over his head. Tord felt himself begin to shake before the Zuun pushed him towards the man.

“Sir?” he asked in Norwegian, trying to keep his knowledge of other languages a secret tool.

“Go ahead, little rabbit,” the Zuun pressed in Danish, and Tord nodded in acknowledgement, understanding. When Tord looked at the young man again, the Zuun placed a hand on Tord’s belt buckle. “This is a little gift, an initiation of sorts… though, we’ll have fun along with you.”

“Or,” Tord heard someone say, and the barrel of a gun to his temple was the rest of his other option.

‘Gudmund..?’ his heart asked, but his mind had him unbuckling his belt, beginning to undress.

A small whimpering called his attention. He jerked his head to the young man on the floor. Another of the commanders had taken to using rough fingers to stretch the man, already using two fingers. The young man seemed so innocent, fingers digging into the floor to deal with the pain.

“Hurts…” Tord heard the young man say in English, and Tord wondered just where on Earth they were now, what country…

“Who…?” Tord found himself asking.

“The second son of a business partner,” the Zuun explained. “We’ve been allowed to… show him punishment, but we thought it better to have a good time while doing so.

“Now then,” the older man announced, turning the now-exposed Tord around and pressing down on his shoulders. On his knees, Tord was patient as the young man’s ass was presented to him. Tord felt something in him stir at the sight, a wet and stretched hole that was surely burning hot from how flushed the other’s body was. “Entertain us, rabbit.”

Tord wasn’t even hard yet, so he did the next best thing aside from masturbating in front of these Pigs around them. He closed his eyes and tried to imitate what Gudmund would do. He laid himself over the man’s back and began to rub himself between the cheeks of the man’s ass. The man whimpered again, trying to stay still; surely, he’d been terrorized before all of this had started.

Tord thought to the night before, letting out a shuddering exhale as he felt himself growing hard. He moved his hips a bit faster, thankful for the lubricant that had been used to stretch out the young man’s hole.

As Tord found himself sinking into the wonderful heat of the man beneath him, finally able to do so, he let the noise drown out from around him. He could hear the Pigs around them laughing, but he only felt the young man shivering beneath him, around him. Sobs racked through him into Tord’s body, anxiety and fear making the tightness around Tord’s cock move and clench tighter around him, like he didn’t want to let go. The man’s hands reached to get away from Tord, making Tord wrap his arms around the crying man’s waist to make sure that they didn’t separate. The knowledge of guns pointed at them didn’t escape Tord, nor did it deter him from enjoying the sleeve of warmth that he was in. After a little while, the man calmed down, sobs and swallows for air slowing down.

A shaky hand reached a bit further back, the man seeking some purchase on the floor close to his shoulder. Tord let one of his hands fall to it, holding the quivering hand. Fingers tightened around it.

It was a strange sort of love that began there, Tord and the man beneath him slowly beginning to rock against each other as the barrels of guns were pointed to them, the Pigs around them laughing or fondling themselves as Tord completed his task.

A whimper was heard, like that of a puppy, and Tord leaned over the man, covering him almost completely. He let out small, soft words in Norwegian that he hoped the man would understand, that he didn’t want to hurt him, that he was beautiful, that they would get out of here, and that fucking into his ass was a delicious feeling that he would cherish outside of here once they were free, a memory that he could take for the road. The soft voice of the man beneath him made his eyes burn; oh, this man really was a puppy.

Tord heard one Pig mentioning taking them both later to show off to Leader _Tod_ , perhaps to roast them, stuff cocks into their mouths and backsides in a show of grandeur for the soldiers and gendarme that were his favored ones. The young man cried out, a sound breaking away from his moans, as Tord thrust faster, rolling his hips forward and trying to hit a certain spot inside of the tight heat to make it-

“Ahh!” The man beneath him began to cry out, Tord seeing him turn his head to the side and bag pulled taut against his open mouth. With that, Tord felt his body lose itself again, thighs burning as their bodies move faster against each other. He wondered when the other man started to push against him, like their hips needed to be together to survive, to be able to breathe; the more that they moved, the sounds and distaste for the laughing around them was leaving; soon, it was just two men, thrusting against each other in a fit of passion that was fueled by the thought of death. Tord’s tongue was pressing wet kisses to the man’s neck, the salt dancing on his tongue, and there was nothing to stop him from biting into the man’s neck when the tight heat of the man’s ass around Tord’s cock became unbearably tight, sharp teeth digging into soft neck flesh while the man cried out hoarsely beneath him.

They rode out the orgasm together, hips moving slowly in tandem. Tord only bit down harder to taste blood, and the moment it filled his mouth, he let out the first real moan, the first guttural sound from his throat that had been born through this life-and-death sex session.

Tord heard praise from one of his supposed superiors, the scent of filth and the words of Pigs coming to his mind again. The young man squeezed at Tord’s fingers, trying to regain his senses. Tord pressed a kiss to the man’s neck again, and the other man seemed to relax.

As Tord pulled out, he tried to ignore the blood on his cock, trying to keep himself from getting hard again, before a boot landed on the small of his back, pushing him back into the heat.

He cried out, collapsed over the young man’s body as his legs were pulled at and his clothes disappeared in a flurry of noise and color.

Pain erupted, coursing through Tord’s body as someone’s cock made their way into his ass, no preparation given at all.

“I told you, boy; we’ll have fun along with you.” The Zuun’s voice was like honey in his ear, the older man – probably the oldest of everyone in the room – beginning to rut his way deeper into Tord’s ass. Tord hissed as he was pulled back and out of the prisoner beneath him, as the rest of his uniform was ripped off of him. The prisoner beneath him was turned around so that he and Tord would be facing each other.

Tord cried out finally, trying to be defiant. The other prisoner’s head shot up, as though finally realizing that someone else unwilling was in the room. A gunshot decorated the tense air, and Tord sobbed as pain ripped through his arm.

“Little rabbits get shot when they misbehave.”

Fully naked now, Tord was redirected in two ways; his cock was pressing into the used body in front of him and his mouth was positioned to be at someone’s erection.

“Come on, little rabbit. Fuck like your kind does.”

The tears came as Tord felt his body move again, the only instinct left in him to survive. When the young man’s face was revealed, the bag soaked with tears, sweat, and saliva, Tord tried not to look as a gendarme forced the young man, their prisoner, to choke on his dick.

Their eyes met once, and Tord hated how much innocence was still in those eyes, like those of his puppy.

He hated how he had fallen in love with them in one instant.

* * *

Tord and the prisoner were left on the floor after all of the commanders had had their fun. Tord didn’t want to move for the pieces of clothing that were left to him; he only had the underwear left, a long sleeved shirt and trousers that were meant for warmth under their uniform. He felt himself bleeding heavily from bites and rips in his backside’s flesh; he’d probably been safer being fucked with a knife.

“H-Hey… Are you alive?”

Tord turned his head to his fellow prisoner, the puppy. He nodded slowly.

“A-And you?” he asked in his heavily accented English. The other man nodded, and he saw that the man wasn’t really that much older than him at all, maybe only by a year or two.

“Yeah.” Tord closed his eyes, hearing the other man move. He heard water pouring before steps came close. His eyes shot open as a cool cloth came to pat around his face. Another was placed over the bullet wound in his right arm.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s not the first time... But I didn’t think they’d hurt someone else. I thought they would just make you hurt me and let us both go.” Tord’s eyes burnt; he had thought that as well.

“Why are you being so nice? Who are you?” Tord asked, moving to sit up, but the young man pushed him down as he hissed in pain.

“You’re hurting. I can’t let you be stupid just yet.” Tord glared at him, insulted. “As for your other question, I can’t stand by your being hurt. We’re both prisoners of the Black Army, after all. Besides, maybe my brother can get us both out of here. He didn’t want to be here either.”

Tord nodded, not mentioning that he was part of the Black Army and saying, “That might… be best. I think I’ve burnt all bridges now.”

“Good.” The young man smiled at him. “What’s your name?”

“Tord… and I thought I asked you first.”

“My name’s Edd…” The door opened, and Edd smiled at the young man who came in. “Eduardo, can we go?”

“Holy shit, Edd.” Eduardo looked to Edd and Tord both. He gave Edd his jacket – “It’s long enough, right?” – and saw the underclothes on the floor, strewn there like trash. He handed the shirt to Tord, and the two brothers helped their new friend get dressed.

“Edd, who hurt you?”

“The Black Army soldiers, Eduardo. They hurt me and Tord here.” Eduardo helped Tord to his feet, spying the Norwegian closely.

“Where’d they take you from?”

“O-Oslo,” Tord whispered. He didn’t realize how thirsty he felt.

“Come on. We’ll hide you. Dad’s going to be too drunk by evening to notice a new person in my bedroom, especially when the Black Army brings new people for him to fool around with.”

Edd’s arm was warm around Tord, and his smile was so sweet. Tord wanted to keep it tightly to his heart, a warmth even greater than what Tord had felt for Gudmund.

“We’ll get you fixed up, Tord. They won’t hurt you anymore.”

Tord didn’t have the guts to tell Edd that he had been the one to hurt him, rape him…

And that he had enjoyed it.


	3. Counting Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, then. I'm in charge of this chapter. Angel is mainly beta-ing because of changes at work.
> 
> *OMG, ANGEL AND I ARE DROWNING FOR THE GREs. We have only two months to take them and one month to study for the first one we're going to take. Wish us luck!

Tord could not sleep. He was stuck staring up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. He saw Edd and Eduardo sleeping in bed together, Eduardo's arm firmly over Edd's warm body. With how tightly Eduardo was holding onto Edd, who was oblivious to his brother’s lips against the back of his neck, and how deep in sleep the two siblings were, Tord sat up and tried to see how he could leave the building.

He heard footsteps in the hallway and a familiar voice.

‘Gudmund?’

He stood, ignoring the pain at the bottom of his spine as he hurried to the door. Slowly opening the door, Tord hurried out, and there Gudmund stood.

“Where the fuck were you?”

Tord tried to explain what happened, what the Zuun had ordered him to do, but Gudmund was already pulling him away. His wrist restrained in Gudmund’s grip, they were running down the hallway. Tord could hear engines outside and party-goers who were starting to become victims of sleepiness.

"Gudmund?"

"Tord, I heard you did well on your mission." Gudmund stopped, pushing Tord into one of the walls of a narrow, claustrophobic hallway. "Did you listen to what Zuun Diederich asked of you?"

Tord blinked at the words. That... What he and Edd had experienced... It was a test? The tears that the other had just suffered through, the pain, the blood that had covered Tord's genitals once they were all done; was it all for a chance for Tord to rise in power?

Why did the idea chill his bones and bring fire to alight his spine?

"Y-Yes." Tord felt his heart skip at the smile - cruel and beautiful - on Gudmund's lips.

"Good _kanin_." Gudmund pressed a kiss to Tord's nose, chuckling at the shiver that made Tord's body into a weak branch in the autumn winds. “I have your uniform. We just need to leave quickly. It seems that we’re getting new cargo in two weeks, and you’ll be helping me this time.”

“Really?” Tord continued to follow Gudmund down the hallway, trying to keep track what they were passing by. He felt a tugging sensation in his chest, the feeling of seeing Edd’s sweet smile and the thought of gaining power from seeing the other boy’s tears… His stomach flipped just as they made their way to join the group, the Zuun that had ordered Tord to assault Edd welcoming them into their vehicle.

Tord sat right next to Gudmund, searching for warmth there, and Gudmund returned it with an arm around Tord's waist, fingers pressing into his side.

* * *

Tord, dressed in his uniform, felt safer somehow. He was in the same uniform as Gudmund, though there was nothing to indicate any power on Tord’s part. Standing just behind Gudmund before they entered a new place, something akin to a factory, felt something like it, though.

He was with Gudmund on another mission, two weeks after he and Edd had met.

“You’ll learn what we do with some of the cargo. The family here is connected to the British Royal Family, and they are the most regal of the allies of our Army. They have their own uses for cargo.”

Tord nodded. “Will… I have a new task, Gudmund?”

"Nothing like what you have done. You will guard the door along with two senior guards. There is a younger member of the family. He might want entertainment but he's young and isn't involved in the family business just yet." Gudmund shrugged. "Having met him before, he's too soft for this kind of work."

Tord chuckled. "To be in such a noble position and not have the heart for it..."

That had been the plan.

When Tord arrived, however, presented as a low-ranking soldier in the Black Army, he was asked for by the father of the Liddell family. Tord looked to Gudmund and the Zuun that was assigned to lead their meeting. Both nodded and Tord followed behind him.

"Do you understand English?"

Tord nodded, following Sir Liddell into a dark room with a failing fluorescent light. There were clothes, like hospital uniforms. He followed the order to find a size that would fit him well.

"You will be sitting in on a surgery. You are to hold the patients' hands and keep them calm the whole while. If anything goes wrong in this regard, your commanders cannot protect you."

Tord blinked at the words, nodding. He was left alone in this strange changing room, left to wonder how he kept being taken to these different places, how he was always at risk...

He had wanted to go up through the ranks and leave, but the further he was being involved, the more he found that there were too many things in the world that he wanted to go to, that were entangled with things from the world that had broken a part of his spirit. Changing his uniform made him feel exposed, but he obeyed Lord Liddell, ready to walk into the surgery room when called.

"You are the soldier?" they asked when they entered the changing room. Tord stood up and stood at attention. A woman, dressed in the same surgical garb, came forward and slipped a cap onto his head to cover his hair.

"Wash your hands and come this way."

Tord was led into a room that had surgical equipment everywhere. One young man was on a table, covered in blue cloth and paper, the same color as the surgical garbs. He was to sit very still and talk with the boy when necessary to keep him calm. Tord didn't know very well how they would be talking to him, if he was awake for it.

"Thomas, this man will stay here with you," the woman said. A small grunting that was muffled through the cloth assured Tord that he was awake. Thomas's hand was out, under a set of blankets that made everything clean for the surgery. The fingers twitched and Tord reached out to hold them. Only the boy's eyes were visible, eyes that appeared to not have any grasp or capability of seeing.

Thomas gripped at his fingers, looking for relief, it seemed. Tord almost smiled at the feeling; it felt like strength. As the younger boy went to sleep, Tord didn't stop holding those fingers. Thomas's eyes were removed, and Tord followed the boy to a recovery room.

He came back after washing his hands again, this time to hold the hand of another boy that was completely unconscious. It was another eye surgery, but Tord didn't know for what.

* * *

Tord was borrowed the next day again. This time, the lady of the house, Lady Liddell, came to fetch him, stringing him along like a puppy.

“You’ll stay with two boys. One is my son, so you shall be on your best behavior. Is that understood, soldier?”

“Yes, my lady.” Tord kept his head bowed low in reverence to her. When he raised his head, he saw her smile. It was the same kind of smile that the Zuun in command of Gudmund gave him when he had rutted into Edd a few weeks ago.

“Come.”

They came to a door that had two locks, but both of them were not secured. Lady Liddell stepped inside, swinging the door open. Tord followed, not knowing what to expect. A chirp of happiness alerted him that there was an air of peace here. There was a couch with two people there, watching a strange movie with pirates and zombies, blood splatters coming onto the screen at random, comically timed scenes.

“Mother, who’s that?”

“This is one of the Black Army soldiers, dear. He’s here to keep you and Thomas some company, Matthew.”

Tord looked to the boy that greeted Lady Liddell, a boy with ginger hair. His smile was bright and innocent, nothing like what he had pictured a child of this family to be like. The boy turned to the other boy that he was sitting next to.

The second boy had spiky brown hair and a tight bandage around his head. He stayed facing the direction of the screen, a book in his lap and opened to a random page. His fingers were spread over its white pages. Tord recognized him, not just by his name.

"Hi, I'm Matt!” The Liddell son greeted him kindly. “And this is Tom! We’re just watching _Insane Pirate Zombies from Hell_. You wanna watch?”

Tord looked to the mistress of the household, who nodded her head. She left the three boys, Tord sitting on the other side of Thomas.

Matthew whispered details of the movie to Thomas, who nodded repeatedly when he understood what was going on or shook his head when he didn’t. Tord sat up as tall as he could, trying not to be lulled into the sense of complacency that was tempting him.

“Here, soldier,” Matthew offered, holding out a bowl of popcorn. Tord, uncertain, reached for the bowl and picked at the popcorn that was given to him. Thomas looked over to him, facing the soldier’s direction.

Thomas could have been glaring at him with how his face seemed to contort itself into a sneer. “What’s the Black Army doing here?”

“Come on, Tom!” Matt whined, bring Matthew closer to him. “Let’s try enjoying the film!”

“I want answers, Matt. You know I do.”

Tord sat still in his place, looking at the blinded boy. He only nodded his head.

“I am just a foot soldier, Lord Thomas. I am to keep you two company while my superiors speak with the family. I assure you that I am no threat to you.” Tord kept his voice even and respectful. Something about Thomas drew Tord to him but still grated against him at the same time. It was like having a rebellious little animal, unlike Matthew who as a little sheep, obeying his parents and seemingly oblivious of the world that they were involved in.

"Hmm... Sure." Thomas turned his head to face the screen again. It was at that point that Tord noticed a small speaker in his ear. Tord wondered if it was used for the descriptive audio for the movie. "Well, enjoy the film with us then. It's my favorite."

The more that Tord looked at the boys, he saw that he was correct in thinking that they were about his age, if only younger. From the way that they spoke, Tord figured that they were in secondary education, perhaps only starting their ninth or tenth years of school.

He wanted to feel some form of empathy for them - and he truly did - but Tord felt that pity wouldn't do anything for them. Pity wouldn't given Thomas his eyes back.

* * *

After the film, they played card games. Thomas carefully felt the corners of each card, and Tord did the same, feeling carefully placed bumps that obviously meant something as the same cards all had the same pattern. Thomas must have been studying Braille for quite a while to know it so well and to have beaten both him and Matthew at several rounds of War.

Tord found himself enjoying the time with them, remembering a time when he and his family would play and try and find solace in each other. He found himself enjoying Matthew's laughter and Thomas's blunt nature. When Thomas laughed, Tord felt warmth bubble up within him, making him laugh as well.

Matthew kept making jokes after that, some good and some bad, and the three were all laughing, though Tord stayed somewhat subdued due to his position.

"You're not that much of an ass, soldier," Thomas complimented him, smile wide and finally clear after so many games and jokes. He had a small bout of hiccoughs from the laughing, and Tord felt himself wanting to capture the memory of Matthew - still familiar - teasing Thomas lovingly and Thomas responding back.

"Thank you, Lord Thomas," he replied, watching in amazement as Thomas's cheeks flushed into a lovely shade of rose.

"I'm not a lord, soldier."

"Oh, come on, Tom," Matthew joked. "My family loves you. They got the doctors to do the surgery yesterday, right?"

Thomas nodded, replying, "I know... You guys do a lot for me. That cancer was spreading... Thanks, Matt."

Tord blinked at the statement, wondering how they could have done two procedures yesterday if Thomas had had the diagnosis. He tucked the thought into the back of his mind for now.

A knock came on the door, and Tord stood, ready to react to whoever walked in. His body relaxed, though remained at attention, as he saw the Lord and Lady of the house walk in.

"Thank you for watching the boys. Forgive us for leaving them with you for two hours." Tord nodded and bowed at the waist.

"It is my honorable and humble duty for you, Lord and Lady Liddell." He raised himself up and turned to Matthew and Thomas, bowing again. "Lords Matthew, Thomas; I thank you for the time I have been with you both."

Matthew smiled brightly. "No, thank you! Me and Tom have been getting bored without another person here!"

Tord nodded and heard someone clear their throat. He looked to the door and saw Gudmund behind the Lord and Lady. He bowed again to everyone, following after Gudmund right away.

"What did they use you for?"

Tord blinked, looking to Gudmund and processing the Norwegian that tumbled from Gudmund's lips.

"I watched over their son." Tord thought about the last two hours. "It was interesting."

"Hmm... We might take them then."

Tord stopped in the hallway.

"What?"

Gudmund turned to look at Tord, eyes stern. The corner that they had just turned at has opened to an empty hallway. Tord took a sharp breath in as Gudmund's hand rose to his chest, pressing the young man against the wall.

"Are you questioning me?"

"N-No, Gudmund. I just..." Tord felt words die in his throat, his mind trying to think of a way to ask what on Earth would they do. "I was just wondering what they would be of use for."

"Whatever we're ordered to do to them." Gudmund pulled away, sighing. "Tord, remember your place; if you must know, the whole family has been part of human trafficking for years, especially for organ trafficking."

Tord blinked at that. He could hear Gudmund speak, but the words became muddled by confirmation of his thoughts.

"Is... Do we provide them with people as well?"

Gudmund smiled at that. He cradled Tord's face with one hand, Tord leaning into the warm palm.

"Your eyes are beautiful, you know. They thought of taking your eyes, but-" Gudmund pressed a chaste kiss against Tord's forehead. "- you're too pretty for that."

* * *

Tord was ordered to accompany Gudmund to the Liddell residence the next day. He was called again by Lady Liddell, who appeared exasperated to some degree.

"My Lady?"

"My son asks for you often. I might just convince your superiors to have you given to us."

Tord felt his chest tighten at that; as much as he found himself enjoying time with Matthew and Thomas, Gudmund still held part of his attention.

This time, he and Matthew played poker, Thomas resting. Matthew chatted about his day, asking Tord about hs life bfore the army. Tord avoided answering those questions.

“What’s your name?”

“… I am Tord, sir.” Tord stood from his place at the table and bowed in respect, the colors of his uniform apparent. Matthew smiled up at the slightly taller boy.

“You were the one in the surgery.”

Tord startled before realizing that it was true; the second boy, after Thomas, had been Matthew. Thomas had been taken to the recovery room where Tord had calmed him when he had awoken, and then Matt had been the boy for the second surgery.

“Yes, I was, sir. Are you well?”

“Mm-hmm…” Matt smiled up at him. “You’re nice, Tord. Thanks for being there for me!” Tord nodded. His curiosity was peaking, and Matt seemed to be in tune with it.

“I just got fixed up, is all. Corneal transplant.”

“Sir Matthew,” a servant called, coming down the hallway and looking somewhat flustered. “The Lord, your father, wishes to see you all in his study.”

Matt pouted. He followed the servant and bid Tord farewell.

“See you later, Tord. It’d be good if we could spend time together again!”

Tord blinked at the invitation, nodding and bowing. Matt smiled back at him, his eyes shining as Tord realized why else Matt had seemed so familiar. Parts of Thomas’s eyes were in Matt now, and both boys seemed to have no idea.

A whisper of a plan came to his mind, and Tord didn't stop to entertain it.

* * *

On another occasion, Tord was called away from a meeting with the Liddell family by Lord Liddell. Tord follow obediently, watching for any signs or notices of anything that could be of use to the Black Army. He was brought back to the familiar sitting room, only to see Thomas inside, staring into space with another blank book in his lap.

The boy looked so innocent in the room, a victim to the world's vices and violence around him; it would be less gut-wrenching if Tord hadn't been a witness to it. The gauzes on Thomas's eyes were traded for acrylic glass eyes. They had no color to them, only serving to support the muscles that were now left with nothing to guard or operate.

The door clicked and locked behind Tord, who stepped forward.

"Who's there?" Thomas asked, turning towards the door.

"It is Soldier Tord, Sir Thomas."

Thomas hummed at that.

"Do they just use you as a babysitter? Were you demoted or something?"

"No," Tord said as he felt his humor tickled, his ire coming forward in the way that he handled it before he was in this Army. "They're just afraid that you're going to break something."

Thomas actually laughed at that.

"The thought is tempting some days." The boy patted the seat next to him on the couch. "Come on, it's weird that you're just standing over there."

Tord smiled and did accept the invitation. He looked down at the book and noticed something on the surface of it. He sat down and tried to look more closely.

"What's on the page?"

Thomas blinked.

"Did you think I was torturing myself by holding a blank book?"

"...Maybe?"

Thomas reached out, hitting Tord's arm.

"Give me your hand."

Tord raised his arm up, watching as Thomas found his hand, grabbing it in such a way that Tord's index finger could be directed in any way that Thomas saw fit. Tord followed as Thomas began to drag his finger across the surprisingly bumpy page. The little bumps were in patterns, and some repeated themselves.

"What is this?"

"Never heard of Braille, huh? I guess you can only feel it, anyway." Thomas let Tord's hand fall away, something that made Tord reach for the other's hand right away.

Thomas's breath hitched, settling into a rattling kind of breathing.

"Shit! What'd you do that for?"

Tord didn't have an answer. It did leave him with a question.

"What was your surgery for?"

"Eye cancer."

"How?"

Thomas blinked at the question, drawing Tord's gaze to see the darkness of the younger boy's eye sockets.

"You're asking me... How I got cancer?"

Tord felt his face flush.

"I mean, how did you know?"

Thomas nodded, understanding.

"I woke up one morning and my vision was blurry. Over time, it got worse. Matt's uncle's an eye doctor. He checked me out from the beginning, prescribed me eye drops, but nothing worked." Thomas sighed. "I miss it, but I've been learning to read and listen since it started, but what else should I do? Moping won't do anything to fix my problems."

At that, Tord realized how similar they were.

"Smart kid."

"Hey," Thomas chided. "You don't sound much older than me. How old are you?"

"You first, Sir Thomas."

"Fourteen, and it's Tom."

"Seventeen."

"Three whole years older, eh?" Tom shrugged, squeezing Tord's hand slightly. "You can't have experienced too much more than me."

Tord laughed at that, the thought of his imprisonment and his precarious position of power perched at the forefront of his mind. He assured Tom that he had seen and experienced enough in his lifetime.

"Really?" Tom hummed, closing his book and setting it to the side. "Tell me this. Have you been on a motorcycle?"

"No," Tord answered, catching onto the game. "Have you ever danced?"

"Once, with a girl at school before the cancer happened. Have you ever been in love?"

"Maybe," Tord teased. The answer was stuck in his throat, the real one. "Have you ever kissed someone?"

Tom shook his head and Tord leant in close, gently sighing and watching as Tom's face flushed from the feeling of Tord's breath over his cheeks. Tom only stuttered out small sounds as Tord pressed his lips to Tom's right cheek.

The boy froze, and for a moment, Tord was nervous about what was to come. He heard no protest, however, and he pressed forward, another kiss to the corner of Tom's lips. He smiled as the mouth turned to find his, Tom shyly pressing their mouths together. Tord pressed a bit harder, finding a balance between the forces of the both of them that left them with equal power in their kiss, a dizzy sense of bliss rushing thought Tord as he realized that this was the first time that he had ever really wanted to show someone something wonderful.

Tom let out a sigh against Tord's lips, and a beast inside of Tord urged him to leap forward, digging his tongue into Tom's mouth and leaving the teenager breathless. Small gasps for air left Tord growing hard, and it didn't take much for Tom to be keening underneath him, tilting his head back and making Tord pepper the pale neck with kisses and small bruises from suckling at the supple skin there. He wondered how Tom would like it in Norway, where Tord could get back to his workshop and perhaps make something for the other. Nothing as simple as a cane, he thought as he captured Tom's lips again, the younger man's arms coming up around his neck; no, Tord could think of a way to give him the world again.

Tom pulled away from the kiss, tracing over Tord's chin to travel down to the older man's neck, biting into the sweet skin there and marking the soldier as his own. Tord thanked every celestial body that he could think of that Tom couldn't see the marks on his neck already, as the boy puled away.

"That's... revenge," Tom panted out.

"For what, Lord Thomas?"

"It's Tom."

Tord sighed. "What's the revenge for?"

Tom smiled up at him, and Tord felt guilt over the glass-filled orbs that could not see him.

"My first kiss... with the nicest Black Army soldier around."

* * *

Tord was brought to the Liddell House one day, Gudmund seeing him walk out of the vehicle that brought them. They had visited many times, but this was the first time that Tord came alone. One of the other Zuuns ordered him to gather any information on the family; Tord found himself fruitless in those endeavors, as Matthew only talked of himself and his friends. Tom knew even less.

Tom always left a strange feeling in his chest, and it terrified him. He wanted to take Tom for himself, stuff him away and take him out of this home. He thought the same of Matt, wanting to take him away. Perhaps that was why he had taken Tom's kiss, as something that no one had ever taken from Tom from him, and this was why he, when he had come again - now alone, without Gudmund - was now with Matt. He listened to Matt speak about the kiss that Tord and Tom had shared, never having anything of that aside from the girls that his mother would introduce to him, but there was never any emotional connection there, and he had asked Tord for a kiss as well, interest peaked when Tord kissed him, pressed him down into the cushions of the sofa, and soon, Tord was marking Matt's neck, tearing at his shirt, and their hands were wandering everywhere.

Matt pressed against Tord’s crotch, pawing at the hardness under his uniform. Tord rolled his hips against Matt’s hand, returning the favor and reaching into Matt’s trousers, stroking him roughly.

“T-Tord, I like that.”

Tord pressed kisses to Matt’s jaw, licking at the baby fat that made the other’s face look so soft. Matt let his head fall back, moaning loudly as Tord pumped his cock with harsh strokes. His voice was loud, moaning and voice cracking at different intervals due to the boy's youth; it sent chills over Tord's arms, pleasure filling him. Matt's cock was starting to spill fluid, nothing like that of an orgasm but with the sweet promise of one.

"Matt, you're... so beautiful," he cooed to the boy, watching in awe as Matt unraveled under his touch, cum covering Tord's fingers. Matt's eyes were watering and he was babbling out Tord's name, a look of innocence broken if Tord could think of a way to visualize it. It was a beautiful way to be broken, nothing like how Gudmund broke him.

Tord bent the boy over the edge of the couch, Matt unable to touch the floor. He moved to become more comfortable on top of the couch. He smirked at the idea that Tom had been sitting on the spot just behind where he was kneeling now; what he would do to have Tom witnessing this, unable to see him gently roll his hips against Matt's ass. Maybe he'd have Tom lay underneath Matt, trying to understand how Matt looked, mouth wide and gasping.

How would Tom's fingers understand Matt's tear-filled eyes as Tord began to pull down Matt's pants further, fingers pressing in with cum-moist fingers? Would Tom cherish the moans that told Tord that he had found the spot inside of Matt that would have him melting into Tord's grasp, distracted as Tord slipped in three fingers before pushing inside and starting to thrust into Matt's pliant body? Matt only cried out in pleasure, urging Tord on and pressing against him, or perhaps Tord mistook the hands reaching back at him, slowing down in response to pain rather than the idea to tease the boy beneath him.

Matt made little noises, chirps and yips, with Tord pressing kisses to Matt's neck, soft sighs elicited. Tord cooed at him, smiling as Matt nodded, silent and a smile telling Tord that he was alright. As Tord pushed in faster, rolling his hips against Matt's ass, Tord slid his arm in front of Matt's mouth.

"Bite, Matt."

"Huh?"

"Bite." Matt bit obediently, but not hard enough to break skin. The force of the bite increased, and Tord hissed as the pain and the speed of his thrusts increased, that pretty pleasure-pain that burned in his belly. Matt's moans were muffled by his mouth over Tord's arm, and Tord kept giving little praises, everything he would have wanted to hear from Gudmund or to tell Edd but couldn't.

Those little sounds from Matt grew a bit higher, his body quivering.

"Are you close?" Tord whispered, Matt letting go of Tord's forearm, saliva covering the smooth, softer flesh.

"Tord..." Matt was gasping, every thrust pushing all of the air out of his lungs. "Yeah... I can't..."

Suddenly, his body tensed, back arching and Tord cursed at the immediate tightness that followed, the heat around his cock pushing him over the edge and spilling into Matt. They were soon moaning, Matt holding the sofa for support and Tord hushing him softly, holding onto him.

"... Matt?"

"That's me," Matt answered, a small chuckle from a place deep in his chest but still youthful.

"Want to go outside?"

Matt nodded. "I can show you the garden-"

"No..." Tord pulled away from Matt, smiling at the groan of loss that Matt let out. "I'm taking you with me, if you want."

Matt looked up at him. He fixed his clothes as Tord did the same, the Army jacket on the side of the couch. "Really?"

"Next time."

A knock came at the door, with Matt telling them to hold on a moment to open the glass to the barred windows. As he granted them entrance, Tord felt his blood freeze as he stood. Matt let out a squeal of excitement as the servant that came along introduced a Mister Argyros.

"Edd! I missed you!"

Edd stared at Matt and then Tord.

"It's good to see you, Matt." Edd lifted his head up, and Tord's plan suddenly decided that it couldn't wait until next time.

"Lord Argyros." He stood and bowed, trying to ignore the look of betrayal in Edd's eyes, green seas of sadness.

"Tord."

Sadness... and Tord could feel the conflict in his chest that he wanted to give Edd what he had just given to Matt mere minutes before.

"Oh, you know Tord?"

"Yeah..."

It would be tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Come back next week!


End file.
